w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Strange combination of events behind today’s main post.

As far as I know, I have no fear of flying. I’m not great at heights, but feel comfortable enough in planes for journeys to be enjoyable.

Today’s music mix during the commute contained an unusual coincidence of references to flight. As well as Annie Lennox, there was Lynyrd Skynyrd singing “Freebird”.

Then reading Zed’s post reminded me of last night’s special. I seem to dream regularly about air crashes, but viewing them from the ground, not in one. They’re always different, but on this theme.

Yesterday’s involved a very small plane dropping very slowly onto the roof of my house, which I could see right into and through. Everyone made it out of the house but I don’t know the pilot’s fate.

Maybe it’s some sort of sub-conscious thing, from being stopped at Gatwick Station, with jumbos dropping in very close overhead at frighteningly short intervals?

Heat

My sartorial trade-mark is wearing short-sleeved shirts throughout the year, because I feel cooler that way. When everyone else is wearing jackets etc., I’m bare-armed – must be a faulty thermostat.

Shuffling over London Bridge this morning though, even I had to privately admit that it were parky. Yet there was a guy wearing a bright pink shirt, no jacket or coat, jauntily strolling across the river. It made me feel cold just to watch.